Rhett 39
RHETT
“Whoa, where’s the fire?” Kade’s hand lands on my shoulder.
I crane my neck, shoot him a harrowing look, and growl, “He fuckin’ recorded her. Everything.”
Kade’s eyes widen, shock turning molten in a split second. “You watched it?”
“Not at first.” Before I came back here, I made the twins let me finish it—alone.
And I did. I had to know what they did to her.
“I needed to see it all, needed the validation that killing this cunt is the bare fucking minimum.” What was in Bradley’s iCloud storage haunts me—portraying every moment in horrifying HD-quality.
Although I hate that Noah had to endure something so vile, so fucking inhumane, I’m grateful she can’t remember all of it. Her—lying there helpless, tears streaking her cheeks, hours of silent weeping while he and his friends took what they wanted, with absolutely zero remorse.
Bile churns in my gut, but I force it down and let the rage take control. “He doesn’t get to breathe the same air as she does. Not anymore. This ends now. Once and for all.”
Kade’s hand drops from my shoulder. His jaw ticks once. “Well then, brother …” He steps back, gesturing to the beaten and bruised prick that deserves to rot in a hell of my making. “Have at it.”
In the back corner of the building, smoke coils in slow, venomous ribbons from the burn barrel.
The heat wraps around me before I reach it, air warping, hissing like it knows what’s coming.
Buried in the coals like the devil’s own pitchfork is the Black River Ranch branding iron. Our mark. Our legacy.
“It’s ready to go,” Kade mutters from behind me. “Been in there a while. I lit it up just after you left.”
My fist wraps around the long metal handle as heat crawls up my arm like it’s testing me, wondering if I’m man enough to do this. Sure as fuck, I am.
With a few paces, I march across the room, boots echoing off tile. I come to a halt next to Bradley’s limp frame. He’s hanging from the chains, his chin slumped to his chest like he’s already dead, not just passed the fuck out.
The iron pulses in my grip, casting orange light across the blood-slick floor. Every breath I take tastes like smoke and slaughter. The scent of scorched metal and old fear clings to everything.
Following my lead, Kade crosses the room and rips open Bradley’s bloodstained shirt, buttons scattering like teeth on tile.
“Time to rise and shine, motherfucker.” I don’t wait for permission before I drive the hot iron straight into his chest.
The sound Bradley makes rips out of him, raw. A scream so loud it drowns out the echo of his sizzling flesh. I hold our brand there like it’s a fucking ritual.
Noah’s face flashes in my mind—her tears followed by her voice cracking when she said, Give him hell, cowboy.
Smoke rolls off his chest. Skin peeling and bubbling around the raw, angry letters—B. R. R.
“Stoppp! P-ple-please. I can’t—” Bradley sobs.
Loud, wrecked, his chest heaving like a dying animal.
His head slumps forward, sweat flinging off him in droplets.
I step in close, and my hand grabs hold of his throat.
The whites of his eyes are swimming in tears as he breathes nothing but the air I allow him.
“You feel that?” I rasp, voice shredded with hate. “That’s just the fuckin’ prologue.”
“I’ll d-d-do whatever you want. Please. I’m s-s-s-orry.
I’ll vanish. You’ll n-n-n-never see me again.
” The stench of scorched flesh chokes the air, clinging to my throat like smoke-drenched wool.
He whimpers something incoherent, maybe a plea, maybe just the pathetic noises of a man learning what helpless really feels like.
I let the silence stretch. Let the pain settle into him like rot into a carcass.
Then I move, tearing the tool away from his scorched skin.
Kade doesn’t ask questions—just steps back, giving me space. I stalk to the stainless steel table and run my hand across the knives lined up like church pews. “So many fucking options—boning, skinning, gutting.” I toss a look over my shoulder and ask, “Any preferences, Brad?”
“F-f-f-uck. Please don’t do this.”
“Too late.” Settled with my decision, I lift the curved blade we use to peel hide from muscle. I’ve butchered plenty of animals in this room. None of them deserved it like the beast hanging in front of me now.
Turning on my heel, I approach him slowly, dragging the handle along my thigh. I grab his jaw and force it up. “You still with me, Bradley? C’mon now. Don’t quit on me. Not yet.”
“M-m-m-my dad will come looking for me. He’ll make sure you pay for this.” He panics, trying to pull away, but the chains have him secured tightly.
“Keep your eyes up here,” I snarl. His gaze drifts to mine, pupils blown wide, lips trembling.
Good boy. That means he understands what’s next.
“Your daddy can’t save you. The law won’t save you.
There’s no cavalry coming over the ridge.
” I hold up the knife. Let the steel catch the light.
“Silly Bradley covered his tracks a little too well.” Dropping my voice to a low, dangerous growl, I add, “When you came for my woman, you delivered yourself to me, neat as a boxed-up Christmas gift. No trace of you. No witnesses. No escape.”
I trail the tip of the blade down his abdomen. His muscle twitches beneath the touch, skin of his chest raw and blistering. “You played right into our hands, just like we wanted you to. They’ll never find you, and that was my plan all along.”
Bradley doesn’t deserve subtlety, so I carve his sin into his skin.
One.
Slow.
Letter.
At.
A.
Time.
The blade sinks in with sickening ease. He howls, body twisting hard enough to make the chains scream. Blood pours in thick, warm rivers down his torso, running between the seams of his ribs and dripping to the drain below.
R A P I S T
When it’s done, I step back and admire my work. The letters are jagged, uneven, leaking red like a fucked-up confession.
“Rapist,” A lethal growl rips from my lips as I brush a thumb across the raw edges. “Now, even hell will know what you are.”
Bradley’s half conscious and gurgling. He sags forward as much as the chains allow. But he’s alive. Still breathing. Still capable of experiencing more pain.
Kade exhales beside me. “You done?”
“Not even close. He’s still conscious.”
Kade laughs from behind me, the sound sharp. “Give it a minute. I’ll fix that.” He steps forward, boots slapping wet tile, and flicks his boning knife like it’s a toy. “You want fingers? Or toes?” He glances at me, eyes too bright. “We could count ’em off like a little nursery rhyme.”
“Fingers first.” I chuckle at Kade’s psychotic nature. “Buckle up, Bradley, he can get real creative sometimes.”
Proving my point, a devilish grin creeps across my brother’s face as he drags the knife along our captive’s knuckles. “This little piggy for hurting Noah. This little piggy for inviting his friends. This little piggy for payback. And this little piggy … for revenge.”
Bradley flinches at my brother’s deranged attempt at poetic justice accompanied by the blade, the laughter. It doesn’t matter. I don’t stop him. Kade’s in his element now, pacing behind the body like a goddamn hyena, whistling something low and tuneless under his breath.
He grabs Bradley’s wrist, presses the tip of the blade to the soft webbing between two fingers.
The moron jerks, whimpering. His whole body trembles with the kind of fear that pisses itself—literally. The stench of ammonia hits a second later, and Kade draws back with a grin. “You made a little-boy mess. How embarrassing.”
Normally, my brother’s lack of sanity would concern me, but under these circumstances, I’m thoroughly enjoying it.
Bradley shrieks as Kade slices clean through his joint, then holds up the dismembered middle finger. “Look at that, Brad.” He tosses the finger at his face. “Now you can go fuck yourself.”
At the far end of the room, the meat grinder waits in the shadows, silent but hungry. I tip my chin toward it. “I say we chop him up into pieces and mince him.”
Kade whistles low, delighted. “Sir Piggins and Miss Piggy are gonna eat like royalty tonight.”
Then, quieter, almost reverently, I grit, “You hear that, Brad? You’re about to be useful for the first time in your fucking life.”
Grabbing hold of the electric winch controls, I lower the sack of shit to the ground and unchain him.
His body has all but given up as he lies bloody and broken and begging for leniency.
“I don’t want to die.” Bradley lets out a defeated sob, one that echoes off the bloodstained walls and vanishes somewhere in the distance.
I grab him by the ankle, my grip tightening as I lead him to his bitter end. “Now you know how it feels to beg for mercy—and be ignored.”
“You won’t get away with this. I’m entertainment royalty,” he gurgles through spit and snot. “They’ll find out who did this to me.” As he attempts escape, his body is uncooperative—the same way Noah’s was that night. He didn’t offer her a reprieve, so I’ll extend the same courtesy to him.
Dropping to my haunches, I look him dead in the eye.
“That’s where you’re wrong. You’re not the first man to wander onto this ranch and disappear into the darkness.
This is my show. This is for Noah. For every time she was afraid.
For every tear she shed. For every single piece of her you thought you could own. ”
He knows what’s coming.
I flip the switch to turn on the grinder. It starts low, a rumble that vibrates throughout the building, instilling fear as it rises to a grating churn, all whirring blades and metallic gnashing.
In the end, there’s no mercy here—just retribution.
“Say goodbye, Bradley. The show’s over.”